


Ink

by sapphire2309



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for Sara's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal discovers Sara's tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for the September Table of Doom over at writerverse, for the prompt, "The wearing of clothes is only one of many ways in which the human animal decorates itself." (Peoplewatching by Desmond Morris, page 334) (I _love_ the tone of this book.)  
>  **Disclaimer:** White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.  
> 

They're lying in bed, exhausted enough to fall asleep but far too buzzed to even try. Sara's laughing at something, turning over so she can lean against him, when it catches his eye.

"I haven't seen that before," he murmurs, tracing the tattoo on her back with his thumb.

He sees the change in Sara's expression. It's like the drop of a shutter.

"It's on my back, Caffrey. You spend your time dazzled by my pretty face," she snarks, like a reflex. It's easy to strike out at him, at anyone who tries to get too close. She's very good with her words, that way.

"True," he says, effectively taking the edge off her words.

He shouldn't be able to do that.

"It's not very you," he says, tracing the light blues and browns, watercolours. They make an interesting contrast with Sara. "Why did you pick it?"

"It was the prettiest."

He breathes a laugh. "Why did you pick this particular species of bird?"

She doesn't want to answer. "You know me too well."

He hums his agreement and scrutinizes the tattoo the best he can from his angle.

"It's Dieffenbach's rail. I wanted a rail because they're extinct. They lost their flight and then they were killed off."

Her voice has gone soft, too soft. He hasn't noticed. He should be reading her, she _wants_ him to read her, but he isn't. He's reading the tattoo.

He's going to see it. It's barely even there, but he's an artist. He makes a living off paying attention to fine details. Any minute now, he's going to-

"Oh," he whispers, tracing what must be, what has to be, Emily's name, with a touch so light it's barely there.

""I was going to pick the Tahiti rail. But the Tahiti rail is red and black. Those are my colours. This is more like Emily."

She doesn't know why she's telling him this. She had the out, and even if she didn't, she could have made herself an out.

"It's beautiful," he says.

He doesn't apologize. Thank _god_ , he doesn't apologize.

She looks him in the eye. He looks... like he always does. Maybe a little softer. Maybe a lot softer.

He doesn't pity her. He gets it.

She sighs. "I know it is."

**Author's Note:**

> [Dieffenbach's Rail](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Nesolimnas_dieffenbachi_\(altered\).png) | [Tahiti Rail](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tahiti_rail#mediaviewer/File:Gallirallus.pacificus.jpg)


End file.
